


Ambrosia's Kiss

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: AU - Firefly Inspired, First Cylon War, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's wartime. Saul has a ship, and Bill needs to get somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambrosia's Kiss

"I require a pilot." 

Saul looked up from his drink. He pegged the guy for nerdy scientist type—glasses, needed a haircut, rumpled suit, briefcase stuffed with papers. 

He tossed back the rest of his drink. "You hiring me?" 

"If you can get me to Picon, yes." 

Saul set his glass down. "I'm no blockade runner. Picon's out. I'll take you anywhere else in the system, but I'm not going up against the Cylons."

"I see." The guy pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Can I convince you by saying your government would appreciate your service?"

Saul's mouth twisted into a frown. "They appreciated my service enough to kick me to the curb. Dishonorable discharge." He spat the words out. 

"Wouldn't you like the opportunity to redeem yourself?" 

"I've redeemed myself plenty. Worked my ass off to buy this ship, and I'm not going to let it get shot up by the toasters." 

"Oh," said the guy. He tucked his briefcase under his arm and turned to go. "I guess you don't have the stones for it. I'll look at another slip."

"Suit yourself." 

He turned back to look at Saul. "Or maybe it's that little junker that can't handle the run."

Saul's chair scraped the barroom floor as he stood. "Rule number one of flying with me. Nobody insults my _AK_ but me."

**

"Rule number two." He was running through the preflight checklist, flipping switches, checking everything twice. He hated having somebody hover over him. "You stay in your berth." 

"Is my berth the corner of the cargo bay? With the sleeping bag?" 

"Yeah." _AK_ was too small to have passenger berths. There was only the cockpit up top, then the galley and Saul's quarters below it, with the cargo bay and engines below that. Nice little ship. 

Adama didn't retreat. Saul sighed and reached for his headset, opened a channel. " _Ambrosia's Kiss_ to tower, requesting takeoff." 

Adama had the gall to sit in the copilot's seat, his briefcase clutched to his chest. 

"You keep holding on to that thing," Saul said, as they got airborne. "What's it got in it, the Virgon crown jewels?"

He smiled thinly. "Something like that."

**

It was three hours into the flight when the Cylons picked them up. Two Raiders came up on either side, scanned them, and then jumped away. 

"They'll be back," Adama said, standing up. "You've got to hide me." 

"Hide you?" Saul flung his arms out. "Does _AK_ look like she's got a lot of hidey holes? The toasters'll rip us apart." 

He frowned in thought. " _Renata_ -class semi-freighter? Pre '45?" 

"Er, I think." Saul scratched his head. "She's a junk bucket I saved from the scrapyard. Has to be that old. At least." 

Adama smoothed back his hair. "Hide me under the engines. There should be a hatch; if this was a smugglers' ship, it may be expanded." He fixed his gaze on Saul. His bearing looked completely different now, and Saul was wondering about the whole nerd thing. "Is she a smuggler's ship?" 

Saul ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes." 

"Come on." Adama's pace was brisk as he left the cockpit and leapt down the ladder to the galley. Saul was following him. In the engine room, Adama released the safety, lifted the rotor, and dropped his briefcase into the hatch. "Plenty of room. Close me in." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely. Humanity depends on it." He dropped into darkness. Saul put the grate back in place.

"You gonna tell me who you really are?" 

"After our company leaves." He gave Saul a smirk that was downright sexy before Saul pushed the engine back into place and powered them up again. 

**

Like clockwork, a Heavy Raider jumped in almost as soon as Saul was back in the pilot's seat. They hailed him.

" _Ambrosia's Kiss_ ," he answered cheerfully. "Captain Saul Tigh speaking. My registration is Gaoth 48094DVO."

"Are you working now, Captain Tigh?" the Six's voice asked.

"No, ma'am. Headed back to Aerilon; hoping to pick up a fare there." 

"Then I'm sure you won't mind if we search your ship." 

"Be my guest." 

Saul tried not to let his nerves show as they searched the ship. Here was his gorgeous _Ambrosia's Kiss_ and they were practically ripping her apart. They even looked in his kitchen cupboards, not that there was anything in there. 

Plus, the Centurions were commanded by a Six, and he hated Sixes.

"You look familiar, Captain," she said, as she watched the bulletheads knock books off his shelves.

Saul shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "I have one of those faces."

She gave him another searching look, then moved to the ladder to the engine room. Saul's heart leapt into his throat. If they found Adama, he was dead. They both were. Saul gripped the doorframe and listened to the engines, trying to drown out the sound of the clanking Centurions. The first indication they'd found Adama…. He looked up. He could swing up into the cockpit, grab his gun…

The Six was coming up the stairs. Saul leapt aside. 

"Your engines are running a little loud," she said coolly. "Get them checked out when you get to Gaoth." 

Saul nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He followed them to the airlock and waited until the Raider had undocked. Then, he bolted for the cockpit to check Dradis. They were gone. 

"You okay?" he asked, as he pulled the grate away to check on Adama.

"I'm fine." He pulled himself out of the hole and brushed off his briefcase. "You?"

Saul rubbed the back of his neck. For some reason, he felt he needed to act cool in front of Adama. "I was fine. I'm an old pro at this. Get stopped all the time. So. You gonna tell me who you are?" 

Adama grinned. "Got anything to drink?" 

**

Just about the only thing Saul had of sustenance was things to drink. Bill—he'd told him to call him Bill—poured them two glasses of ambrosia.

"Seems appropriate," he said, with a wink.

Saul leaned forward. "What's in the briefcase, pal?" 

Bill set it on the table. "Humanity's last hope. The Viper Mark V. These are the plans." 

"You design it?" 

Bill threw back his head and laughed. "Gods, I can't believe that disguise worked. No. I'm the pilot." 

"Good for you." Saul took a sip. "I used to be a pilot." 

"That reminds me. Why'd you get discharged? If you don't mind my asking."

Saul leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "I slept with a Six." Bill's mouth dropped. "This was before we knew the Cylons looked like us, but…" He shrugged. "You took the test. 'Have you ever had sexual relations with a Cylon?'"

"Damn," was all Bill could say.

"So, how'd you get a sweet gig like that?" 

"Wrong place, wrong time." He smiled cheekily. "I should be asking you that. This is pretty good work."

"Yeah, when I can get it." 

Bill watched him for a moment. "I think I'd like that, you know? Nothing tying me down, just flying." 

"Yeah." Saul laughed. "It is nice." 

Bill was a surprisingly good cook—he had to be, if he was able to throw together a meal from Saul's measly ingredients. 

"Please tell me you're going to buy groceries when I pay you." 

"Yes, Dad." Saul picked up his chopsticks and dug in. 

Saul never made conversation with passengers, as a general rule. These were people he would know for a week at most, and when the trip was that long, being stuck with a person you knew and talked to would get annoying. 

He certainly never ate with them, much less let them cook for him. Would never volunteer to do the dishes, would never let them sneak up behind him and kiss him. 

He turned in Bill's arms, ready to protest, but the smile there was enough to melt any comeback he had. Instead, he slipped his arms around Bill's neck and kissed him back, letting his rough fingers tangle in the soft hair on the back of Bill's neck. 

It was Bill who directed them to Saul's rack. Saul had never brought anybody on board to sleep with, had never had anyone in his quarters. It was still a mess from the toasters and the mattress was hanging off the rack. Bill pulled it back into place with a smooth motion before depositing Saul on top of it.

"Now, how much time we got until you need to fly this thing?" he asked, pulling off his already-loosened tie. 

"Hours," Saul said. "Plenty of frakking hours." 

Bill grinned and straddled him. Saul wasn't sure how long they spent on this stage—for every article of clothing removed, there was at least five minutes of kissing, then exploration of whatever region the removed clothing revealed. His erection was straining against his shorts when Bill finally removed them, taking Saul's cock right in his mouth. Saul craned his neck to see, to watch that perfectly-shaped jaw working as he sucked. How the hell had they wound up here? 

And what would happen to them next? 

"You okay?" Bill asked.

"Huh? Yeah." Saul tangled his fingers in Bill's hair. He could get used to doing that. "Want to just do this, or you want to frak me?" 

Bill smiled hungrily. "I'll frak you." 

Saul fumbled in the drawer for the lube and rolled over to give Bill better access. Oh, yeah, he liked how Bill fit around him, the way those thighs gripped him, the way his hands covered Saul's, muscles twitching with each thrust. 

He tried to hold on for as long as he could, to enjoy the moment, but he eventually came in a shuddering, gasping mess, Bill right behind him. 

"I almost don't want you to drop me at Picon," Bill said, as they lay spooned together. He was dragging his finger over the tattoo on Saul's shoulder, the Aerilon symbol. 

Saul grunted. "Gotta save the world." 

Bill snorted. "It's not all about me." 

"They obviously trust you." 

"Just drew the short straw, that's all. Pissed off an Admiral somewhere." 

Saul laughed, a real laugh. It had been a long time. He turned to face Bill. "Don't see how you could piss anyone off." 

Bill kissed him, long and slow. "You haven't lived with me," he muttered, tracing a finger down Saul's jaw. He kissed him again and Saul was about to suggest another go when the DRADIS alarm went off. 

He pulled back and leapt out of bed. Saul pulled his T-shirt on, Bill now forgotten, and scrambled up the ladder while he pulled his pants up.

"What is it?" Bill asked. He was just wearing boxers and Saul had to tear his eyes away to disengage the autopilot. 

"Two sparrows. No, three. Four." Saul jabbed a finger at the co-pilot's seat. "You logged any ECO hours?"

"Enough." Bill sat down and tilted the monitor towards himself, starting to rattle off the coordinates Saul should avoid. _AK_ wasn't built for maneuverability, but Saul was a good pilot and he knew her well. 

"Buckle up," he said, and then put them into a drop.

He was using every trick he'd learned in flight school, but this wasn't a Viper, and he didn't have any weapons. The drop caused two of the toasters to shoot each other, but that still left four, with more jumping in every moment.

"You have to jump," Bill said.

"I can't jump! This is a civilian vessel. There's a lock on the FTL." 

"Yeah, uh, I can take that off." 

"Then do it." Saul jerked the control yokes hard to the left, then back to the right. 

Bill pulled a keyboard out from his side of the panel and began typing. "Just give me a few minutes. I'm not good with this computer stuff." 

"You just have to be good enough." Saul hadn't flown like this for a while, and as much as he hated to admit it, _Ambrosia's Kiss_ had seen better days. She was older than him, at the least, perhaps older than his dad. 

And he wouldn't stake his life on her being younger than his grandfather. 

"The lock's off!" Bill announced. "Just need to spin up." 

_AK_ whined in protest as Saul gave the throttle everything it had. Straight forward and then… flip her over and shoot back as the sparrows whizzed right by. 

The whining sound was getting louder. 

"C'mon, girl," he muttered. "When we get to Picon, I'll get you an oil and lube at the expensive place, not the crappy place, okay?" 

The ship didn't respond, but her engines also didn't cut out. 

"How about now?" he asked.

"One minute 'til we can jump. We're taking a detour." 

"Not Picon?" The hull was starting to rattle. That was rather unsettling. Would she stand up to a jump? 

"Not Picon. I'm going to rendezvous directly with my ship. Ready?" 

Saul dodged another volley. "When you are." 

"In three, two, one." 

Saul shut his eyes.

"Jump."

**

Saul opened his eyes. Thank Artemis, they'd made it. 

Bill immediately reached for a headset. " _Galactica_ , Husker. Do not fire at the _Renata_ -class. It's me. Repeat. I'm in the _Renata-_ class freighter. Yes, we're docking now." 

Saul sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He supposed his work was almost over.

**

Docking was easy enough, though Saul had never lined up anything bigger than a Raptor with a battlestar. 

Never would again, most likely. And nothing smaller than a Raptor either.

Saul didn't leave the ship, but he did go down to the engine room to tell _AK_ what a good girl she was.

"Saul?" 

He jumped.

"You know," Bill said, climbing through the hatch, "she's not a Cylon ship. She's not talking back." He was back in uniform. He looked more soldier now. 

"Oh, I know what she's feeling," Saul said. He patted the rotor. "Military makes her jumpy. She wants paid and she wants out." 

Bill sat down next to him. "Thanks, by the way. You deserve a medal for that flying. Hell, you deserve back in the Fleet. We need Viper jocks like you." 

Saul forked a hand through his hair. "Nah, you don't. They made that pretty clear." 

"Here." Bill handed him a check. "Take care of yourself. Head back to Gaoth, in case the toasters check up on you."

"I will." 

Bill gave him a searching look, then stood. 

"Good hunting," Saul said. Bill gave him a casual wave as he climbed out of sight. Saul waited until he heard the hatch close, then unfolded the check.

It was for three times the amount he'd charged.

**

Saul leaned back in his chair and watched the ceiling fan make its lazy circle. Weeks after Armistice Day, most of the celebrating had settled down. Didn't change much for Saul. He was back on Tauron, looking for a fare. 

"I require a pilot." 

Saul's heart gave a surge of hope as he lifted his head, but no. It wasn't the lieutenant in the Colonial Fleet he kept looking for. 

"Where you want to go?" 

"I'm looking for a ship to take me to Aquaria," the man asked. "Is the _Gorgon_ yours?" 

"Nope." Saul jabbed a finger across the bar. "If you want _Gorgon_ , talk to Annie." 

Saul watched the fare leave, took another swig. 

"Does that mean you're free?" 

Saul jumped clear out of his chair. 

Bill was standing behind him, looking oh-so-frakkable in duty blues and neatly-combed hair. He had his duffel slung over his shoulder.

"Mustered out?" he asked hopefully.

"Mustered out," Bill confirmed. "I'm going to Caprica City." 

"Want a ride?" 

"I'd love that." 

Saul got up, tossed down some coins for his tab and they walked to _AK_ in silence. 

"How've you been?" Bill asked, as they walked across the cargo bay. "How's business?" 

"Pretty good." Saul pushed his sleeves up. "Especially since you neglected to lock my FTL back up. Made myself a bundle running blockades for the rest of the war." 

"Good for you." Bill followed Saul up the ladder. 

"You know," Saul said, once he'd settled into the cockpit, "Caprica City's just a puddle jump. It would be cheaper to go public." He watched Bill out of the corner of his eye, for any reaction to the revelation that Saul intended to charge him. 

"It would be," Bill allowed. "If I was planning to stay." 

"Stay?" Saul flipped switches. All hatches closed. Good. 

"I just want to drop off some things at my dad's. Then I was hoping to come back."

"Where you want to go next? I don't leave the meter running if a better option comes along." 

"I'd never expect you to, Saul. I meant come back here." 

Saul looked up. "To Gemenon?" 

"Nope. Right here." Bill patted the arms of his chair. 

Saul froze, his hand on the instrument pad. The engines roared to life. 

"To _Ambrosia's Kiss_ ," Bill confirmed. "Addictive little ship. Her captain's something else, too." 

Saul was still staring. 

"I'd really like to go with you," Bill went on. "Wherever you're going, that's where I want to go." 

Saul desperately wanted something smart to say. He was sure his face was by now redder than his hair. Instead, he just reached his hand over to Bill's while he eased the throttle back with the other.

"Things are messy," he warned, as they lifted off. "Not always clean, not always legal." 

"Don't care." He squeezed Saul's hand. "Didn't want to leave you back there either, but…"

"They owned your ass." 

"That they did. And used it rather effectively."

"Yeah, I heard how you routed the toasters." 

"Wasn't all me."

Saul let out a bark of laughter. "Modest."

"And now," Bill went on, "I'm free to transfer my ass to its next owner." He grinned. "Hopefully, you'll want it."

Saul remembered Bill's ass. He remembered his arms, too, holding Saul as he thrust into him.

"Two rules," he said. "You have a nice face. I'm putting you in charge of client relations." 

"I can do that." Bill had an anticipatory smile on his face. "And what's the second rule?"

Saul leaned over and kissed him. "Nobody insults my _AK_ but me."


End file.
